19 Feb 2011

120 Socks, driver of the Poetry Bus for 21st February, suggested the word 'Amber' for aspiring Ticket Holders, and I wrote this Tanka - a poetic form using 5-7-5-7-7 syllables in its five short lines.

The last line started life as "a web which would last so long." Then I changed it to 'a web of such brilliance', as it was the eternal light-flames that I had in my mind. But my dear mentor suggested the above amendment, 'a tomb to endure so long', as it re-inforces the 'tomb' aspect of amber for the spider, as well as web for a fly! I can see his point, and thank him for the idea and the words with which he expressed it. If we change our collective mind again, there will be further edits!

17 Feb 2011

He must be hallucinating. The chill had seeped through his clothing, as though the fabric was blotting paper, soaking up liquid cold.
The abandon chair had seemed like a refuge, when he first noticed it across the field. Surely, there would be habitation, human company and help nearby, or how would the chair have come to be there?
He struggled through deep drifts, squinting into the sun as he tried to make out signs of a settlement or buildings. No such luck. The chair was plumb in the middle of nowhere. But as he grew closer, he saw a vague outine of a body - surely a judge in robes and wig? The tapestry figure became more solid until his feverish mind saw it in 3D Technicolor, and he heard it speak! "How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?"

15 Feb 2011

The alien creature gazed at me through slanting eyes, black beady almond shaped things, with a blank and menacing stare that added nothing to its charm. It was impossible to tell whether the crinkled surface of its face was its own skin, or that of some breathing-apparatus-cum-hood, designed to keep it alive in our polluted atmosphere.
Its features reminded me of an owl, for the outer tips of its eye sockets resembled the ears of one of those majestic birds, and the white triangle of its forehead ended in a rounded snout, or possibly, beak, although it gave no sign of incorporating a mouth.
Atop its head, a short, cylindrical dome might have been either headgear, or part of its strange anatomy, and from time to time, laser beams spiralled upwards from the small openings in the domed apex. The lower part of its body disappeared into the blackness which surrounded it...
I stood still and waited for it to make the first move.

2 Feb 2011

Mind and memory intermingle. Some
scenes are sharply etched upon a screen
stored within the confines of our brain.
But when the camera rolled to capture shots,
as we, the actors, played our chosen parts,
it may have picked a random point of view
unlike own. And so, the action replay
which we look at to remember, may not
be exactly as we hoped. In retrospect,
the shifting scenes may give us pause for thought.
Remembrances could prove to be but lies,
if wishful thinking added overlays
of meaning. In colour pictures that our eyes
thought fact, fiction may have intervened.